


The Romance Color

by pastelkanan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Roses, Secret Admirer, this is just gay if we're bein honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelkanan/pseuds/pastelkanan
Summary: Marco finds a rose with Jean's name on it outside of their door one morning. Jean isn't amused. He's going to find out who left it there.





	The Romance Color

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on my Twitter last night because I wanted to write erejean but didn't have any solid leads and someone prompted me with the word "rose" and here we are,, I literally wrote this when I was half-asleep so it's not my best work but I'll take it

   Jean woke up to a gentle knocking on his bedroom door. He yawned and sat up. “Mm. Yeah?”

   Marco opened the door. The two of them shared a suite-style room on their college campus, each one of them having their own room but still sharing a bathroom. “I hope you weren't having a good dream or anything.”

   “Nah. I totally would've ignored you if I had been having a good dream,” he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What's up?”

   “I'm not entirely sure, actually.” Marco walked into the room with both hands behind his back. Jean raised a curious eyebrow. “I opened the door earlier to go down to the kitchen and get some breakfast, you know, and I found something.”

   From behind his back, Marco produced a single red rose. There was a tag tied to the stem with some loose twine, Jean’s name written on it in thick black handwriting. He reached out and took it from Marco’s hands, turning the tag over to see if there was anything written on the other side. It was blank. “The hell?” he muttered. 

   “I was hoping you'd know since it was addressed to you,” Marco replied. “Who would leave a rose for you? For that matter, who would leave a _red_ one? That's the romance color.”

   “I… don't know,” Jean admitted. “I didn't think anyone around here actually liked me. Oh, God, dude, holy shit. Do you think this might be a prank?”

   Marco, as always, was quick to reassure him. “No, no, I don't think we know anyone mean enough to do that. Not even Ymir. Everyone knows that you take romance seriously and would kick their butts for being such huge jerks.”

   Jean sighed, gently holding the rose and looking down at it. “But… nobody likes me enough for this, Marco. This is a  _ real _ rose. Like, not fake or yanked off of somebody’s bush. This is a real rose from a florist or something. They'd have to pay money for that.” He wanted so, so badly to believe that this was legit. He just couldn't. “Really. Nobody would do that. I'm not… I'm not the kind of person who genuinely gets things like this. It's gotta be a prank.”

   Marco sat down on the edge of Jean’s bed. “What makes you think that?” he asked. “You've always been so hard on yourself. I don't understand why.”

   “We've known each other since we were toddlers and you wanna tell me that you don't know why I'm insecure?”

   “Okay, fair. I know  _ why _ it started. I just don't know why you're still hanging on to it.”

   “It doesn't matter if I grew up and lost weight, Marco,” Jean said, his eyes still focused on the flower in his hands. “I'm still  _ me.  _ I'm a dick.”

   “You're only a dick in public, Jean. And you're only a dick in public because you're insecure and trying to hide it. Don't look at me that way! I mostly understand how your mind works by now.”

   “Dude. Being a dick to people because I think I'm the worst is, like, the biggest staple of my personality. If I just stopped being a dick then everyone would freak out and it'd be awful.”

   “Alright, alright. Pretend for a moment that you never started being a dick in the first place but still had all of your other personality traits. Would you still think that who you are isn't good enough to get flowers?” Marco asked. He knew Jean hated those types of questions, that he hated talking about this stuff in general, but he wasn't going to stand by and do nothing while his lifelong friend was suffering. 

   It took a long moment for Jean to reply. He eventually said a soft, “Yes.”

   “Why?”

   Jean groaned loudly. “I wouldn't expect  _ you  _ to understand. You're a good person! You help old ladies cross the street and buy Girl Scout cookies and volunteer and all that shit. I don't do anything like that. I'm not a good person, Marco. I'm annoying and selfish and anyone who knows me is well aware of that.”

   Marco shook his head. “You're wrong. You're also honest, brave, loyal. You're reliable and a good leader. You love puppies and pastels and carnival rides. Bad people aren't like that.”

   “Look,” Jean said, “forget about it, alright?” He started to get out of bed. “I'm just… gonna grab a glass of water for this little guy. It doesn't matter who left it or why. They did leave it and I'm gonna take care of it regardless.”

   Marco stifled a chuckle. How could Jean say things like that and not realize that he was a good person? God, Marco loved him, but he could be really dense sometimes. 

   Well, the mystery of the rose could be put on hold for a little while. Marco still had to eat breakfast. 

 

*

 

   “So you've just, like,  _ found a rose  _ waiting for you when you woke up for three days in a row?” Sasha asked. Their whole friend group was gathered at a table in the dining area of their school’s student union. 

   Jean shrugged. “Well, Marco found the first one because he woke up before I did that day. But I’ve found the other two, yeah. I don't know what the fuck is goin’ on.”

   She laughed. “You're kiddin’. Somebody around here  _ obviously  _ likes you if you keep gettin’ flowers!” In her excitement, she fell into her usual manner of speech. The informal country girl speech, not the ducks-in-a-row good girl speech she tried to make herself use all the time. “You've got yourself a secret admirer. You just gotta find out who it is.”

   Armin chimed in, “I think she's right. That sounds like a secret admirer situation to me.” He glanced over at Marco. “Not that I have any personal experience.” Marco smiled.

   “Not everyone is brave enough to go knocking on someone’s door and be like, ‘Hey, I like you, wanna date me?’ People do weird shit, man,” Eren said as he took another massive bite of his  _ fifth  _ slice of pizza. Seriously, that guy’s stomach was a bottomless pit and his metabolism ran faster than those wildebeest in  _ The Lion King.  _

   “But Jean is lame as hell,” Ymir saw fit to add. “What're the chances he'd turn them down?”

   “Excuse me,” Jean replied. “I happen to be very picky, thank you very much. Why the fuck do you think I'm still single?”

   Ymir grinned. “Because you're a dick, mostly.”

   Jean paused. Then he said, “Okay, yeah, fair enough.”

   Marco rolled his eyes. “We talked about this. You aren't that much of a dick.”

   Eren started laughing. “Are we still talkin’ about the same guy, or?”

   Jean glared over at Eren. “You know what, Eren? Fuck you.”

   Eren fucking  _ smirked.  _ “Ah, babe. You wish.”

   Jean picked a piece of sausage off his pizza and threw it at Eren. “Shut the fuck up.”

   The piece of sausage landed on Eren’s shirt. He picked it off and ate it like a fucking heathen, shrugging like none of this was a big deal. “Whatever. Look, I don't know what you expect any of us to say. You've definitely got an admirer. Nobody has the patience to drag a prank out this long.”

   Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “That's not true and you know it. Oh, God, sorry, Jean. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure it's not a prank.”

   “Whatever,” Jean said. “It's fine. I don't care. I'm gonna be pissed if it's a prank, but… God, I dunno. If it's legit, I  _ really _ wish whoever it is would start leaving some cute notes on the tag or some shit instead of just my name.”

   Eren chuckled. “Wow. Just when I thought that you couldn't get any more French than you already are.”

   “Va te faire foutre, Eren. Va te faire foutre.”

   “The fuck does that mean?”

   “Kiss my ass, Eren. Kiss my ass.”

 

*

 

   “Okay, what the  _ fuck _ ?” Jean said rather loudly. Marco poked his head out of his door, looking out into the little area that passed as their suite’s front hall. Jean was standing in front of their main door, staring at something in his hands. 

   “What's up?” Marco asked. 

   “One of our friends is definitely fucking with me,” he said as he closed the door a little harder than he probably needed to. “There's a fucking note on this one, Marco. It'd be a hell of a coincidence if I started getting notes on these goddamn flowers the day after I mentioned it while we were all eating together. And it's not even a regular fucking note! It's a goddamn Fall Out Boy lyric, Marco. Fucking. Fall Out Boy. Literally you and me and  _ all of our friends _ listen to them, too, so it's not like this narrows it down any.”

   Marco stepped out of his room. “Let me see that.”

   Jean handed over the rose and the tag loosely tied to it with that admittedly cute twine. He was silent as Marco read the short note. Well, the song lyric. A simple, “Let’s be alone together.”

   This was either an awful prank or someone was trying to woo him with Fall Out Boy lyrics. He wasn't sure which one was worse. Pranks were lame and leaving band lyrics for him was super fucking gay, so. 

   Okay, okay. Yeah,  _ he  _ was super fucking gay, but that wasn't the point. 

   “That's adorable,” Marco said, handing the rose back to Jean. “Seriously. You've gotta stop thinking this is a prank. I think it's legit, I really do.”

   Jean sighed and looked at the note again. “I dunno. It seems too good to be true. You know I love this shit.”

   Marco nodded. “And whoever is leaving these for you knows it. Which means they care. Isn't that the best possibility here?”

   “God, you're such an optimist that it's  _ physically painful _ for me to be near you.”

   “You're the one who assumes the worst of everyone.”

   “Yeah, and I'm usually  _ right _ .”

   “Maybe not this time, Jean. Not this time.”

   Jean gave up on this conversation and retreated back into his room, untying the tag from the stem and putting the flower in the glass of water by his window. This was the fourth one. 

   As he tucked that fourth rose in among the others, he made a decision. He was going to get to the bottom of this one way or another. He'd find out who was doing this. 

   The earliest that a rose had been found was half-past eight. That meant that, if Jean wanted to be safe, he'd need to get up about an hour before that to listen through their suite door until he heard someone walk by. And when he heard them, which he  _ would _ , he'd open the door and find out who it was. He couldn't keep living in suspense like this. 

   His eyes drifted to the campus world outside his window. God, he really hoped that this didn't end in flames. 

 

*

 

   Jean’s alarm went off at half-past seven. He groaned, wondering why he set it so damn early on the day he only had two classes and they were in the afternoon until he remembered his plans for the day. Today was the day he was going to find out who was leaving him flowers every morning. 

   He turned off the alarm, crawled out of bed, and took a quick trip to the bathroom before settling down next to their suite’s main door. He had told Marco about his plans the previous night and, bless him, Marco was plenty supportive. He said something lame about the early bird and the worm, something else about how Jean’s one true love might be on the other side of that door when he opened it. Whatever. He had just wanted to make sure that Marco didn't accidentally blow his cover. 

   He waited. And he waited. And waited. And goddamn he got  _ bored.  _ He was beginning to count the bumps on the ceiling when he heard footsteps on the hardwood floor, right on the other side of the door. A light had already been turned on in the hall and he could see a small hint of a shadow of legs. Someone was out there. 

   He stood as silently as he could manage without being too slow. He had already unlocked the door, so all he had to do was reach out and open it. All kinds of emotions were tangling together in his gut. Was he scared? No, God, how could be scared of this? 

   But he was scared. He was scared, nervous, apprehensive. Anyone could be out there. And the only way he'd ever find out who it was was if he opened that door. 

   In a single moment of insane courage, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it and opened the door. There, right in front of him and looking like a deer caught in the headlights, was… 

   “Eren? What the fuck?”

   Eren swallowed nervously. “Uh. Hey. How's it going?”

   Jean's eyes darted from Eren’s face to the rose in his hands and back again. “Is this some kind of joke?”

   “What? No. I'm not that much of an asshole.”

   “So, what? If it's not a joke, have you been delivering these on behalf of someone else?”

   “Not exactly.”

   “Then what the fuck is happening here?”

   “Do you… seriously not get it?”

   “Evidently not.”

   Eren’s nervousness faded as his eyebrows shot up. “Are you kidding me? I've been flirting with you for six fucking months, ever since we spent the night together while Armin and Marco fucked for the first time. Remember that? We watched horror movies and you were scared so you let me hold you. I really liked that. And I thought that I could fall in love with you. And then I  _ did _ because I'm a  _ dumbass _ and I've been trying to win you over with words for  _ literally _ half of a year. But you never seemed to get it, so… I dunno, I went for some lame romancey shit I thought you'd be into.”

   “You're fucking with me,” Jean said softly. Of course he remembered that night. He hadn't slept properly since then; how could he? He knew what it was like to sleep in Eren’s arms, to wake up next to him, to see the first time he smiled in a day. There had literally never been a time that he didn't have a huge ass crush on Eren. He didn't tell anyone, of course, but it was true. Ever since they met and became  _ rivals _ , he had been head over heels for that angry motherfucker. Because Eren was something special. He was… God, he was perfect. He had the most beautiful smile and those gorgeous eyes and he was so  _ good _ to his friends and… 

   This wasn't happening. This was not happening. Eren was… putting aside the whole  _ rivals _ thing, Eren was kind of incredible. He was beautiful. He was brave in ways Jean could never be. He was confident, tenacious, and would go to  _ war _ for the people he cared about. 

   He was way out of Jean’s league. 

   Eren laughed in disbelief. “Dude. Holy shit. I made you a cake! We danced together at that party! You asked me what my ideal partner would be like and I literally fucking described you! I thought for sure that you noticed that.”

   This wasn't real.

   “Seriously, Jean. I… I meant to tell you in person, but…”

   This was a cruel joke. 

   “I'm sorry. I was scared, okay? I meant what I said at lunch the other day. Some of us aren't brave enough to just come out and say it.”

   Eren knew how Jean felt about him and was making fun of him. 

   He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. 

   How could he?

   “Jean? Come on, dude. Talk to me. I'm freaking out here. I'm really sorry I'm such a punk ass bitch and couldn't just fucking say it right off the bat. If… if you don't feel the same, I get it. I really do. But you gotta tell me, Jean. I can't spend another six months living like this.”

   Jean was vaguely aware of the tremble in his hands and the heat behind his eyes, burning like he was about to start crying like a dumbass. “You… you… I don't…” He took a deep breath. He prayed the shakiness of it wasn't too obvious. “You can't really mean that.”

   “WhーWhat makes you so sure? Why are you doubting me right now? Last week you literally said that you'd trust me with your fucking  _ life. _ Can't you trust me with this?”

   “Because,” Jean said, his voice still soft and scared. “Because you're  _ you _ and I'm  _ me.  _ And there's no way that  _ you _ are actually into  _ me _ when you could do way better. I don't… I don't want to hold you back, Eren. You deserve to get out there and… and find someone new. Someone who's actually good enough for this shit.”

   He was about to close the door when Eren took a step forward. “You say that like you might feel the same,” he said. He still held the rose; he hadn't even gotten to set it down before Jean opened the door. He now held it out to him. “Come on, Jean. You know I don't do this sappy romance bullshit unless I really mean it. All I want is an answer. It's a yes or no question. Do you accept me and my… feelings?”

   “Eren…” 

   “Yes or no, Jean. Please. If you say  _ no _ , I will leave and we’ll forget that this ever happened.”

   Jean took in another shaky breath. He still didn't quite believe this, but when Eren wanted something, it was best to give up and give it to him. So Jean stared hard at the floor and barely whispered, “Yes.”

   Eren sighed in complete and utter relief. “Then let me start proving it to you, Jean. I know that you doubt yourself way too much. I haven't been with you all your life so I don't know what all happened to you when you were a kid, but I do care about you. I… fuck, this sounds lame and I haven't even said it yet. But let me help you to see yourself the way I see you.”

   Jean looked back up at Eren. There was nothing but truth in his eyes. After a brief moment, Jean nodded and said, “Alright. I… I trust you. But if you break my heart I'm gonna break your fucking face.”

   Eren reached up to put his hand on Jean’s face. “I wouldn't expect anything less. Can I… can I kiss you? Yes or no, please.”

   “I, fuck. Of course. Yes.”

   Eren pulled him down for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu y'all https://twitter.com/alifeinpastels


End file.
